Memories are Golden and Death is Cheap
by Lewis The King
Summary: What could happen if Harry wasn't helped by the Auror's on duty, with no chance of survival, what might happen? Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality fanfic, short one shot/drabble


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own Less Wrong's Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality.

A/N: This is a fanfiction based on another fanfiction, HPMOR or Harry Potter & the Methods of Rationality. I don't know what might have happened if Harry had been kissed in chapter, something or other, but if he had, maybe this would have happened.

Memories are Gold and Death is Cheap

Harry Potter, through if you called him that he would probably lash out at you, stared forward shocked at the creature in front of him, it was wrong, it shouldn't exist, it was quite simply an anomaly, a thing which he wasn't sure of, what it was, what it did or how it existed all passed through his head, but he couldn't focus on them, like they were whimsical nonsence in the face of such a momentous... thing. It was hard to describe, and he had a way with words, he didn't even notice as he walked forward, he could see nothing but... it was there, implausible to a point of... he couldn't finish the thought, how odd.

The Aurors meant to protect the students could only watch with little but stunned silence when the boy fell to his knees, as the popular saying went 'the eyes are the windows to the soul' the Boy-Who-Lived had been kissed by a Dementer, he had no soul, and his eyes showed it. Quirrell had raised his wand and roared out a spell many deemed him uncabale off, the resulting explosion of light was unbearable to the Dementer, it flew into the sky and as a popular myth suggested, with the boy's soul.

Most devastated of anyone about the tragedy was Hermione, who had put all her effort into the destruction of the creature's which had claimed him, it was odd, they hadn't been that close, in all honesty she had been more friendly to Blaise Zabini than Harry Potter. It was as if she was driven by something deeper than just revenge, it came as an even bigger blow to her when she had near fatally injured one of the few people Harry could have claimed as a friend. She supposed there was some guilt induced emotional trauma, but she really couldn't give more than a passing thought to it in the cold cell she inhabited, instead she gave thought to her friends her family and if they even knew what had happened to her. With each day she whittled away more and more, until if there was a fragment of what had been a promising student at Hogwarts it was buried deep behind cold brown eyes.

The world changed that day, and not for the better, or maybe it did, impossible to tell for the Headmaster behind his chair, hardly giving a thought to the Defence Professor who was secretly plotting, of what he did not know. He stared at his hand tiredly, today had been a bad day, and this was a day which Albus added another wand to the room he had hid away in for so very long. Sometimes he truly remembered the days when each day was a sad day, sometimes he couldn't tell the difference, sometimes, just sometimes he wished he could still be a hero.

And in a near totally crushed coffin a young boy with a future never meant to be screamed in his mind, even as weight pushed rocks into bones and he became dust even through various parasites ate through his flesh, he could still feel it. He wished his soul had been eaten, at least he couldn't still feel the pain, hopefully someone would rescue him, but he didn't hold hope, he couldn't tell whether it had been a day, a week or a millennia, he didn't hold hope of being rescued, after all he had read once that if you give a patient morphine all their life, if you took them off it and they stubbed their toe it would hurt more than being stabbed, and he held hope in the same view.

If only he was up there in the sky, it would be better than this eternal nightmare. At least he solved a mystery no one else would ever answer, except perhaps if they too shared this experience, and if they did, he doubted they would care very much, still a scientist to the end, that had sounded like something Professor Quirrell might have said, and oddly enough that didn't comfort him much at all, neither did the rock which just caved in his last intact rib.


End file.
